


Thin Ground

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: The Inside (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-06
Updated: 2006-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny arrives to work with interesting news: there's a witness to their latest serial killing, and a former team member is back in the neighborhood. But all is not what it seems, and nothing is ever easy.<br/>(Takes place after Episode 2)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interesting News

Danny strolled into the bullpen, his backpack on and a grin on his face. Paul looked up from the file folder he was consulting and frowned. "What's gotten you so happy? It can't be the case we're working on. There's no leads."

Danny took off his backpack in one fluid motion, grinning. "But that's just it. We just got one."

Rebecca frowned at him. "But that's not possible. We would've heard something about that by now. We were both here early, and no one contacted us."

He shook his head at her. "The tip came through a local police precinct. It's just been forwarded on." He looked at Paul. "And you'll never guess who I saw at the supermarket."

Paul looked at Danny, shrugging. "I give up. Who?"

"Madison."

Paul's eyes widened. _"Donna_ Madison?" Danny nodded, grinning. "No way. She just left."

"Who?"

Paul and Danny both turned to Rebecca. "Before your time, really. She used to sit in your seat."

"But Alvarez..."

"Before Alvarez," Danny said. "She was pretty uncanny with profiling the UNSUB's and the vics, and helped bring our solve rate up. And then one day, she just leaves."

"Leaves? Without warning?" Rebecca asked, amazed. She looked from Danny to Paul. "Why?"

"That's just it," Paul began, sitting back down in his chair. He closed the file folder on his desk and frowned. "She just walked in one morning and went straight to Web's office. She's in there for an hour and then walks out. She packs up her desk and leaves without saying a word to anyone. We kept asking, but she just ignored us all."

"And three days later, Alvarez showed up and helped close our open case," Danny added. _Kind of like you did,_ he thought, returning to his chair. But that wasn't fair to Rebecca, who had been just as surprised by her transfer. It hadn't been her fault Alvarez had committed suicide in such a grisly manner.

"Did she say hello?" Rebecca asked, her mouth falling into a frown. "Did she say anything? That's two years she's been gone."

"Not a thing. I know she saw me. I'd think that means she's back in her old apartment. She used to live a few minutes away from me." Danny thought a moment. "Never wanted to carpool."

Paul laughed. "She knew what kind of guy you are."

"Hey, I'm perfectly nice and trustworthy."

Even Rebecca laughed at that. Sometimes she felt almost part of the team, though it had only been a month since her transfer. At other times, she felt like a raw, exposed nerve. Things were too new and intense.

"In any case, as soon as Mel comes in, we'll go hit the lead we picked up." Danny grinned at them both. "Hey, why don't you try to visit Madison? Maybe she'll tell you why she left. I always thought it was the case we were working on, myself. It was pretty grisly."

Paul shook his head. "She was always unflappable. Never much of a talker, either."

"That must've made for tedious stakeouts," Rebecca murmured.

"You have no idea," Paul replied, shaking his head almost sadly. He saw Mel stroll into the bullpen and stood. "Might as well go now. It's against traffic."

***

Danny whistled softly as he pulled up onto the Beverly Hills street he had been given. He turned to Mel. "Do you really think she might live here?"

Mel looked over at Danny from the map in her lap. "That's the address we got from the police department. They said it was from someone named Anne."

"Well, either she was slumming it or she's the maid," Danny said, pulling up into the driveway of an impressive mansion. "I dated a maid named Ana once..." Danny grinned at Mel lasciviously. "It was the best summer _ever."_ It was three stories of pale yellow stucco siding and orange Spanish tile roof, with palm trees all around it. The house was one of the few on the block without a high gate and electric fence. The two agents were able to pull up into the driveway unchallenged and ring the doorbell.

A Hispanic woman answered the door in black slacks and a light blue polo shirt. "Yes?"

"I'm Agent Melody Sim, and this is Agent Danny Love. We'd like to speak with Anne."

The woman appeared confused, and shook her head. "That can't be right. She can't... Let me get Mrs. Bailey. She'll know what to do about this." She waved the two agents inside the house. "Just wait here and I'll get her."

Danny eyed Mel. "One big happy family, I guess." Mel hissed at him as the click of high heels resounded down the marble floor tiles. "All right," he groused.

The heels click-clicked down the tiles, a regular staccato rhythm. The woman that arrived was thin, with tendons that seemed to press out of her skin. Her eyes were bright green, her gaze sharp. Her hair was short and gray. She was immaculately dressed, with gold accents. She walked up to the two agents, her lips pressed into a tight frown.

"There's a mistake here," she said, her voice a harsh rasp. She eyed both agents with distaste. "Anne Marie could not have called you here."

Mel greeted the older woman with a smile that was not returned. "We were given this address by the police. There was a report that an Anne had called from here."

If anything, the woman's lips pressed even tighter together. "It's best if you left."

"We need to speak with her."

"She's not fit to speak with you," the woman nearly snapped. Her eyes flashed.

Danny's eyes narrowed at the woman. "And you are?"

"Juliet Conway Bailey. Anne Marie is _sick,_ and she cannot be bothered with these things."

"She called us, Mrs. Bailey," Danny said, using his best and most charming voice. "We'd like to know why," he added, knowing full well he was lying. She had been pretty clear in her call to the police. She had seen the latest kill, and could no longer keep silent.

Her lips tightened, but Juliet nodded. "This way."

Mel and Danny exchanged a glance, and followed her up the massive marble grand staircase. The elder woman's back was ramrod straight, every sinew strung tight. Her heels clicked hollowly over the steps, and she didn't say a word the entire time. Danny had the feeling that if he even sneezed, Juliet would level him with her fiercest glare.

_This is worse than Catholic school,_ Mel thought, eyeing Juliet's back. If they did anything just the slightest bit wrong, she was sure that Juliet would turn around and never let them speak with Anne Marie.

At the end of the hall on the second floor, Juliet banged on the last door with a closed fist. "Anne Marie! You open this door! What have you done?"

"Why not try the doorknob?" Mel asked gently.

Juliet turned to glare at her, lips pressed tight. "Anne Marie locks it. She doesn't want me in there with her."

_I wonder why,_ Danny thought. He kept his face impassive, and watched as Juliet finally tried the doorknob. The door swung open easily, which startled the older woman. She entered the room and banged on the door again. Mel and Danny followed her into the room.

The bedroom was fairly large. It had stark white walls and bare floors, with heavy mahogany furniture. There were piles of paperback books scattered around, piles of marble notebooks and loose leaf papers. Pens and pencils were tossed onto the floor randomly, and there were sketch pads and colored pencils dumped into the far corner of the room. There was no computer or television, but there was a massive stereo system on the large mahogany desk. A slim brunette with loose, uncombed hair was hunched over the desk. She was dressed in overlarge pajama pants and a skintight black tank top. Her feet were bare and tucked under her. There were ear phones going from the stereo to her ears, and her back was to the door.

"Anne Marie!" Juliet screeched. The girl stilled, and she stopped writing whatever it was that she was writing. She put the pen down carefully, a stark contrast to the careless way the rest of the room looked. She didn't turn around. Juliet was flushed red with anger. "You called the _police!_ What were you thinking?"

Anne turned. Her eyes seemed to be soulless, and resembled marble chips more than eyes. She stared at Juliet, chest heaving. Her eyes flicked to Mel's and stayed there for a long moment. If anything, she seemed to collapse inside herself even further. Her gaze skipped over Danny and settled back onto Juliet. She didn't say a word.

"Anne Marie! I'm _talking_ to you! Is this another episode?"

"No."

Juliet's breath hissed in through her teeth. She looked ready to snap, and looked ready to take it out on Anne. Danny partly stepped between them, blocking Anne from view. He had taken in the girl's expression and fixed Mel with a nearly pleading look. "Mel? Maybe you can speak downstairs with Mrs. Bailey. This must be overwhelming. Maybe one person at a time might help us get to the bottom of this."

Juliet's anger defused slightly, and she looked to Danny with an assessing gaze. "Humph. Very well. Be careful, she lies."

Mel shot Danny a desperate look, and followed Juliet out of the room. Presumably, they would speak in some sterile and ornately gilt room. Danny almost felt sorry for her.

"So you're Anne?" The girl nodded slowly. "Was that your mother?"

Anne rose from her chair exquisitely slowly. Danny could see that she had been writing music, and looked from her pad of paper to her face. "Do you like driving?"

He blinked at the abrupt change in topic. "Yeah. It's fun."

"She doesn't let me go out by myself anymore. But I still like driving whenever I can. Can you make her let us go?"

"What for?"

"I saw it. I'll tell you... I just... not here."

"She thinks you're a liar."

"She thinks a lot of things," Anne replied, voice bleak. "Not all of them are true."

"So do you have a car in mind?"

Suddenly, Anne smiled. She pulled the earphones off, and Danny could hear the blare of techno music clearly through the tiny ear buds. "You'll love it," she promised, her entire face becoming more animated. He could see that she was beautiful, if only she bothered to take care of herself.

Danny returned her grin. "All right then. Lead on."

***

"What was she like?" Rebecca asked during the drive.

Paul thought for a moment. "She was fearless. Nothing ever seemed to bother her. She could go to a crime scene, take it in and know just what to ask a perp once we've found a suspect." Paul fell silent for a long moment. "They always talked," he said finally. "Without fail, they always spoke to her. They would be terrified of making her unhappy."

Rebecca knew she could never inspire that level of fear. She also noted that Paul didn't actually seem to know her outside the scope of work. _Just like Alvarez,_ she thought. Rebecca turned to look at Paul's profile as he drove. "How well did you know her?"

"Not well at all, I guess. I could never figure out why she left. Everyone thinks it was the case, but she'd gone through worse with no trouble. She never said, and then she disconnected her phone and left."

_Just like Alvarez,_ Rebecca thought, looking out of the window. She wondered how long it would take her to break down like that. Madison had lasted nearly six years. Alvarez had lasted only two.

The apartment building was a tasteful complex with manicured lawns and gardens beside every door. Paul rang the doorbell to one of the doors, and Rebecca stood beside him, wondering why she was even there.

The door opened, revealing a petite woman with dark, curling hair and angry, deep-set eyes. Her mouth was set so straight into her face that it was nearly painted on. She was wearing a turtleneck tank top and shorts. She crossed her arms firmly under her breasts. "I wondered when you would show up."

"Donna... How have you been?"

Instead of answering, she looked at Rebecca. "You're too raw to be my replacement."

"Agent Alvarez died last month," Rebecca said. "I'm Agent Rebecca Locke."

"Someone else for him to break," Donna replied indifferently, ignoring Rebecca.

"Donna..." Paul began.

"Might as well come in and say what you want to say."

Flashing Rebecca an irritated look, Paul gestured for Rebecca to go first as they followed Donna inside. "How have you been?" Paul asked.

Donna arched an eyebrow at Paul. "You can do better than that, Paul," she said. Her voice sounded bitter more than anything else. "Ask the real question. You didn't come here to be social."

Paul didn't flinch at her words. "I did."

Donna leveled her piercing gaze at him, and he managed not to squirm. "Liar. Ask the real question."

"What happened two years ago?" Rebecca asked when it looked like Paul wouldn't.

Donna smiled at Rebecca, looking more like a shark with endless rows of teeth. "And there it is." She looked at Paul. "Why couldn't you ask it yourself?"

"Well? What did happen? It couldn't be the case."

Her smile was all lip, a grimace more than a smile. "No. Of all of them, you'd be the one to realize that."

"So what happened? You never told us why."

"Maybe there is no why. Maybe I just got tired."

"You didn't get tired," Paul challenged. "You were so focused on work. That's all you did."

Something in her face closed down at those words. Rebecca didn't think that Paul noticed. Donna turned from Paul and looked to Rebecca. "One month. Has Web turned you into a puppet yet? Has he pulled your strings and watched you walk?"

Rebecca didn't blink under the other woman's piercing gaze. She met Donna's gaze head on, and didn't turn away.

Donna turned away first. "He will. If he hasn't yet, he will. It's what he does. They won't warn you about it. They'll just comment among themselves."

Rebecca didn't make a comment. She knew that much already, and she knew that it must have bothered Donna a lot. She wondered if Donna knew how much she was giving away in her comments, in the way the bitterness colored her voice.

She wondered how much she was giving away herself.

Donna leaned back in her chair. "So it wasn't anything. You can tell the others. Tell them to keep their questions to themselves. It wasn't anything to do with them."

"So why not tell us?"

"I don't owe you anything. You don't need me to tell you that."

Paul remained silent. He seemed almost at a loss for words.

"So what brought you back?" Rebecca asked.

Donna's gaze snapped back to Rebecca, and her shark's smile returned. "You're a sharp one, aren't you? You came broken. You know what to look for because someone else broke you. That's why he wanted you."

"Maybe. But I don't need to explain to you," Rebecca said coolly.

Donna nodded. She stood up. "It was good to see you, Paul. You can tell the others I'm fine."

Concerned, he stood. "Donna..."

She ignored him, walking to the door. She opened it and looked at him pointedly. He blinked in surprise and started walking toward her. Rebecca rose from her chair slowly, in measured movements. "I know why you came back," she said softly, once Paul had stepped out of the half-light and through the door into the courtyard.

"Oh really? Why?"

"Because whatever made you leave is over. There's nothing to stay away from now."

Donna's face remained the same, though her lips parted fractionally. "He'll want to keep you. He'll push you past your limits."

"Has he ever pushed you past yours?"

Her smile was self-deprecating. "I never had any."

Rebecca nodded at her, then walked out into the courtyard.

***  
***


	2. Slow Down and Dance With Me

Danny looked at the cherry red Lexus appreciatively. Anne watched him, and then turned to look at the car. "Do you know anyone with mental illness?"

Danny looked up at her sharply. For a moment, there was an almost guilty look. "Yeah. I did."

"What happened?" Anne asked. Her keys were in hand, but she made no move to unlock the car door yet.

"She killed herself," Danny replied, voice hushed.

Anne looked at Danny, eyes searching his face. "We do that. Psych patients, I mean. It's easy to do. And no one really cares anyway."

Danny's face was shuttered. "We didn't even know she was sick."

Anne slowly unlocked the door. "If she told you, what would you have done?"

"I don't know, take her to the hospital or something. I don't know what to do for somebody like that." He shook his head, thinking of Alvarez's body lying on the mattress of that abandoned house. "But nobody deserves to die like that."

Anne opened the door. "Your partner, that redhead. She looks with her eyes. She stares." Anne sat in the car and watched as Danny got in beside her. "You don't."

"She means well," Danny temporized.

"I had a doctor like her once. She never looked at me like a person. I was a bug, someone to experiment on. She didn't listen." Danny remained silent, only nodding. She turned on the car. "Thank you for backing me up with Mom. She doesn't trust me in a car."

Juliet had argued, lips tight and eyes flashing. Danny had insisted he would be all right. It was almost like arguing with his parents for permission to go out with his first girlfriend. Mel had remained silent, watching them and not saying a word throughout the entire exchange. Anne certainly had a point.

"So are you as good as you say you are?"

Anne flashed him a grin. "I'm fast."

"Let's see, then."

"Here we go." She backed out of the garage and went past their block smoothly. "Ready?"

"Always."

She took off, gradually gaining speed. She entered the freeway, and Danny could see the needle on the speedometer hovering around 90. "So what happened?" Danny asked.

"I'll have to start at the beginning," Anne said. She wasn't looking at Danny, and her hands were tight on the steering wheel.

"Wherever it's easiest," Danny urged.

Her hands still held the steering wheel tightly. "Did you see that portrait on the wall in the living room? It was taken just before Dad and the twins died. They had an interview for college, and Dad was driving them. I had an appointment at the studio the same day. He made Mom take me. He said he'd have a father-son day and we'd have a mother-daughter day. She didn't want to go. She's always hated me, hated the music I've played. She always loved my brothers best."

Danny watched a tear slide down her cheek. "What happened?" he asked gently.

"A semi hit them. Mom didn't talk to me for a week after the funeral, like it was my fault." Anne fell silent for a long moment. "She... I didn't tell her about the voices. I was hearing them just before the accident."

"Your brothers?"

"No. Mine. She... I don't know why. She wanted to come with me when I was going to cut my album. I'd been working on a jazz CD. I played piano, Jerry did bass, Warren had clarinet and Jessie did vocals. She'd never come before, she didn't want to hear what I was up to. But she came with me that day. I don't know why. And they've been yelling at me for months, _months,_ and it felt like years. My dad and brothers, telling me to join them. Some strange one telling me I've killed them and deserve to die." She was choked up, and Danny wished he had some tissues. The speedometer was creeping up past 90.

"What happened?" Danny asked softly. He watched her profile intently. No tears were falling, though Anne sounded as if she was sobbing.

"I think she was relieved, that finally she had a reason to hate me. Finally she had something to blame me for. But I never tried to kill her, never. But it's all she says, like it's all about her." Her eyes were shimmering, though no tears fell. "You don't understand what it's like. That was six years ago. I've been in the hospital twice now. That time, the first time, when I wanted the voices to just leave me alone. I wasn't trying to kill anyone, just me. They were telling me I wasn't even real, I wasn't important. And she hated me anyway, so what did I have to live for? She wouldn't let me see my grandmother, I didn't have anyone else, and I've always been good. But nothing worked. I didn't go out in high school. I didn't go on dates or do drugs or even mouth off to teachers. I spent afternoons playing jazz with the guys to try and put together a CD. I mean, I wasn't bad. But the voices were telling me I was. And it was just _easier_ to listen to them, since she was yelling at me in the car just the same."

"And the second time?"

"They wanted me to go to a partial hospital. My grandmother offered to let me live with her but Mom refused. Mom's always hated her, and after Dad died, she didn't even bother to offer up excuses anymore. She didn't let me to partial, she just kept me locked up in the house. The guys had to get a new pianist, and she wouldn't let me play. So I stopped taking my meds. I thought... I thought maybe she'd see me. I thought maybe it would just be a mistake. But I was confused, forgetting names and faces. I felt like everyone was looking at me, like they could erase me. The voices were worse, screaming at me, telling me to slice my arm open." Anne fell silent. Just when Danny would have said something, Anne spoke again. "They sounded like her. I wanted to claw my eyes out and rip out my throat."

"You're taking your medication now, though?"

"She still wouldn't let me go to partial," Anne replied, avoiding his question. "Grandma died and she wouldn't let me go to the funeral. She would let me see my doctor and my therapist, but that was it. She said I wasn't safe to do anything else. So they helped me out, I see them weekly. They try to work on her, but it's not working."

Anne abruptly got off the freeway at what seemed like a random exit, and began to drive along the side streets. Danny almost didn't want to ask where they were. He was afraid to break her concentration, since they were doing almost 70 in the 25-mph zone.

"You don't know what it's like," Anne whispered. "You don't."

"Then tell me. Help me know what it's like."

"They don't even know what to call it," Anne spat almost bitterly. Her hands were tight fists around the steering wheel again. "Schizophrenia or schizoaffective or whatever schizo name they can make up. They toss it around like it's a game, that doctor with the eyes. She didn't care. She didn't look at me. She didn't _see._ Another patient had to tell me that music drowns it out. I found that out the second time I went in. Another guy there, he told me that music can help drown out the noise in his head. So I tried it, whatever I had. But jazz didn't work. Classical wasn't fast enough. He leant me his techno CD's and that worked. So he gave me some names to get when I got out of the hospital. And I did nothing but play that. Mom hates it. She hates the noise, she hates the sound. She likes it silent like a grave." Anne abruptly pulled over, just in front of an on ramp with a tall cement wall to the side of it. Danny had to admit, the move didn't feel sharp at all.

"Where are we?" Danny asked when she looked like she wouldn't speak anymore.

"You don't understand," Anne whispered. Her eyes were shining wet again. "You don't know what it's like. I still hear them. I lied to my doctors, I didn't want more medication. I didn't want to be a zombie, I wanted to still think like me. I couldn't write any music the first time I got out, I couldn't even read a book."

Danny suddenly realized what she had been scribbling in her room. She had been writing music on those sheets of paper, tapping on an imaginary keyboard on her desk. He could feel his gut twist at the thought, that her one means to deal with her pain had been taken away. He looked at the on ramp to the freeway and noticed red scratches on the cement of the sound barrier. He looked from the barrier to Anne. "Anne?"

"This is where it started," she choked out. She suddenly turned away from Danny, shutting off the engine. She exited the car and slammed the door shut. She leaned against it, chest heaving with the effort to breathe.

Danny got out of the car and went around to the driver's side. Anne looked as though she was struggling not to cry. On impulse, he pulled her into an embrace, his arms tightly wound around her. "Tell me everything."

"I thought I was making it up," Anne choked out. She looked up at Danny with a pained expression. "I didn't say anything because I thought I was making it up. I thought it was a new voice. I thought I was getting worse. You don't understand. It's not like everyone else. If they get mad at their mothers and take off, no one thinks they're going to murder somebody. No one screams like they're not fit to leave the house. I can't... Sometimes I can't take it anymore. So I snuck out. I just _drove,_ I didn't know where. I didn't care. I just needed to get out there, I needed to breathe. I can't breathe in there sometimes."

Danny stroked her hair gently. "You drove into that barrier six years ago, didn't you?"

"I wanted to kill myself," Anne sobbed, clutching at his shirt. "Just me, just the driver's side. She wasn't even hurt, not a scratch. I was in the ICU for days, they didn't know if I'd make it. I wanted to die, I wanted it to stop. I wanted to stop them screaming at me. And two weeks ago, it was almost as bad when she was screaming at me."

Danny held her, stroking her hair. "Where did you wind up?" he asked after a moment.

Anne pulled back, sniffling. "It was some slimy area, I can show you. I thought the screaming was me, that I was making it up. I thought it was a new voice." Her lips trembled. "I was lying so long, I thought I was getting worse. You don't get better when you're sick like me. I thought it was me. I was hearing her and I thought it was me." The tears streamed down her cheeks. "I let her die because I thought it was me. I only went to see when I heard him laughing. My voices don't laugh at me."

He brushed the tears from her cheeks gently. "Anne, look at me." She did so reluctantly. "You're not crazy. You saw something. You never would've called otherwise."

"I thought I was," she insisted, eyes searching his face. "You don't know what it's like, to be questioned, to second guess every thought you have." She laughed bitterly. "I have insight, so I'm better off, they say. I know I'm sick, so that's supposed to be better."

"Because you know the difference between what is and isn't real."

"But I don't. Not really, not all the time."

"It was real," Danny told her gently.

"Yes. Oh god yes. She was lying there, he was cutting into her and then he ate her liver." She sniffled and wiped at her eyes angrily with the back of her hands. "I stood there like a moron thinking I was sick and she was dying not even ten feet from me."

He kissed her then, a soft press of lips against hers. He didn't even know why he was doing it, but it seemed to be the right thing to do at the time. Her response was artless, and after a moment she pressed herself against him. Even after the kiss ended, she clung to him. "I can still hear her screaming in my head," Anne whispered. "And I hear him laughing, cutting into her. I can see his face, the blood all over his mouth."

"I believe you."

"I'm crazy," Anne cried, pulling away from him. "Haven't you been listening?"

"I don't kiss crazy people," Danny replied smoothly. She looked away, a flush rising along her cheeks. "I believe you," he repeated, knowing she needed to hear it.

After a moment, Anne nodded. "Let me take you to where it happened."

"You know where you were?"

She nodded again. "I figured it out as I left. I don't think he saw me."

Danny reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. "All right. Show me."

***

"So what was it that would send my agents out when there are no new leads?"

Both Paul and Rebecca stood perfectly still under Virgil Webster's gaze. He had summoned them to his office the moment he realized they were back in the bullpen, and his tone had brooked no argument. Rebecca had never seen him truly angry before, though something told her that he wasn't truly angry now. She hadn't even gotten a chance to ask Paul about his impression of Donna. The woman was impossible to read, though Rebecca thought she might have some idea why she had reacted as she had. There was something about Donna that was tugging at the back of her mind. Perhaps she could puzzle it all out if she had just a little more information about Donna. Rebecca was trying to formulate a theory on much less information than she had gotten on Alvarez. There was something in the group dynamic she was missing, and she couldn't figure out what it was since she was too new to the group herself.

Paul unclenched his jaw slowly. "We heard that Donna Madison was back."

Web reacted, but he did it so subtly that if Rebecca hadn't been watching him, she would have missed it. He unfolded his hands and looked rather nonchalant. She would have doubted her earlier observation if she didn't already know he was a man of nuance. "Really?"

"She had apparently just come back."

There. A twitch under his left eye. Now Rebecca was truly intrigued. Somehow, Donna had irritated him enough that she actually mattered to him.

That was a mystery worth unraveling.

"I see. And how is she?"

Paul shrugged almost negligently. "I'd say she's about the same."

Rebecca wondered if she had truly acted that way when working with the team. If so, it must have been an awfully tense six years. _No wonder they didn't know Alvarez. After Madison, they must not have wanted to try..._

"Really? The time off must have done her some good." Web smiled, but it was edged in a way Rebecca wouldn't have been able to explain. She wondered if Paul was even aware of it; on second thought, he couldn't possibly be. If Paul had any idea of the hidden and murky depths simmering within Web, he would have left the team. Paul was too frightfully honest to deal with the endless intermediate shades of gray that made up the intricacies of Web. Paul didn't like treading on eggshells with anyone, but that was the only way to play with Web. He liked the ground around him nice and thin, and people like Paul would never know until it was too late that he had fallen through.

Rebecca knew all about that kind of life. Living it had formed scars she still carried, and made it a thousand times easier to see the scars in others.

"She seems the same. She's definitely not more relaxed than when she used to be here," Paul said, plodding forward in that dogged way he had. Rebecca wished he would just keep his mouth shut; Web's eyes were glittering in a way that seemed almost unhealthy.

"In that case, I should perhaps pay her a visit."

"You know where she lives?" Paul asked in surprise. In retrospect, even he should have realized that Web knew everything about everyone on the team.

"Of course." Web stood up fluidly. "Now where's Danny and Mel?"

"There was a witness that came forward. They went to interview the witness."

"Good to know someone's working on it. You stay here and see if anything else crops up. If we have a witness now, we'll be pushing this case forward."

Paul opened his mouth as if to argue, but Web pushed past him. Rebecca blinked, not sure where she should be in all this. At the threshold to his office, Web turned around. "Rebecca, you're coming along with me."

She didn't even bother to pretend to be surprised. "Of course," she replied smoothly. She shared a glance with Paul on her way out, and shrugged lightly. She could just chalk this entire episode up as another puzzle piece in the odd dynamics of this office. Someone liked to play mind games, and it wasn't just Web.

She drove Web to Donna's apartment complex in her car. She could see him taking in the details of it, the radio station she listened to, the personal items in her backseat and how she had done the air conditioning settings. He was filing it all away for later, but Rebecca let him. It made him feel that much better about the situation, and when comfortable, he sometimes let things slip.

She rang the bell to Donna's apartment, not really expecting the other woman to open it. She did, her face impassive. "You're back."

"I've brought..."

Web crowded the entranceway. "Donna. Good to see you."

Rebecca took a half step back. As far as either of them were concerned, she wasn't there anymore. She was a witness to their little play, and she was willing to let them play it out.

"Virgil. You actually came to see me to visit. How lovely." Her voice dripped acid, and she made no move to let him enter.

"Aren't you going to let me in?" he asked after a long moment.

Her gaze shifted to take in Rebecca. "You shouldn't stand there in the sun. Come in." She moved aside to let Rebecca enter her apartment, but there wasn't enough room for Web to enter. "I wonder why you're really here," she murmured, though the tone of her voice indicated that she didn't really wonder about it.

"I wanted to see you."

"That's true enough." Donna moved aside and let him step inside her home. He did so quickly, and she shut the door. It carried an almost ominous sound, though Rebecca knew that there was none of Donna's rancor reserved for her.

Donna moved to the same seat she had sat in earlier. Having had the minute in the living room all to herself, Rebecca had looked it over without Donna watching her do so. She hadn't really looked before, but she looked now. Other than the couch and two appropriately placed matching armchairs, there were no other pieces of furniture. There was no television set, no wall unit. There were large landscape paintings on the wall and torchiere lamps in every corner. Even so, the room was dimly lit, and there was no real sense of the woman that lived in it.

_Because she doesn't,_ Rebecca knew. There was no soul in the room, no sense of it being lived in. It was a showcase room, one to see the few guests she received. Donna didn't live in this room, so it had no need to show off any sense of her self.

Rebecca thought of her own living room and refrained from passing judgment.

Donna sat regally on the couch, facing the two armchairs. It reminded Rebecca eerily of how Web sat during the case pitches. "You seem the same, Virgil."

"So do you, Donna," Web replied. Both of them seemed to be able to speak without inflection.

Her smile was a bitter curl to her lips. "Come now, that's not accurate."

"Isn't it?" Web asked, eyes narrowing slightly. "It's the same game all over again. Only this time, you didn't need a gun to get what you want. You just used Paul."

Her smile widened slightly as Rebecca turned to her in shock. "Well, you know that kind of game so very well, Virgil. You play it all the time."

"Do I really? I never had to hold a gun to _your_ head to get something done."

Rebecca suddenly realized that they were both trying to curry her favor without directly asking for it. She found that concept very odd.

Donna's lips curled, exposing teeth. "Intimations work so much better than any gun, Virgil. You know that."

His head tilted to the side. "Has it really seemed that way to you? I haven't helped to build you to your full potential?"

Her laughter was a bitter bark, something that hurt Rebecca's chest to hear. "Oh? Is that how you see it? Is that how you get to sleep at night?"

"Then what is it?" Web challenged her. "What is it if I'm not helping you?"

"You're getting the job done," Donna replied easily. Her eyes bored into his. "You have a team that functions much like a machine with interchangeable parts. They all have their function, and it works as well as you designed it to. It's a well-oiled, fully functional case hunting machine. You're its leader, its puppet master. You pull the strings, the marionettes leap into action, the killing ends. You've gotten to play your hand at God, and you like it."

He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

"No, you don't," Donna snapped. Her eyes flashed. "Don't play that game with me."

"This isn't a game, Donna. Not anymore. You left, and you've changed everything."

"I've upset your timetable, that's all. You've found replacement parts. You broke them, you replaced them. There's no need to cry about a perceived loss. There's no loss to you."

Web actually seemed hurt by the statement, and Rebecca had to wonder what was really going on beneath the surface. It almost seemed as though he had actually cared what she thought of him, and that her cutting words were finding their mark. _Donna, how did he hurt you?_ she wondered, her eyes shifting back towards the acrimonious woman.

"If something happened, you only had to come to me. I would have understood. We're only human," Web murmured softly.

Donna's eyes narrowed. "Yes, we are, aren't we? We're nothing more than helpless little meat puppets to play with."

"No. You were always more than that."

Donna stood up, eyes flashing and nostrils flaring in anger. "Oh really? No downtime. No chance for reprieve. On to the next monstrosity, off to the next hideous crime scene. No time to breathe, no time to reflect, no time to process. There is no processing with you, just moving on to the next play. You just want to pull the strings."

"Donna..."

"Do you know why I left? Did you ever try to figure it out? Or did you just look for the next runner up in your files?" Donna snarled.

"There was no sign in your record," Web responded carefully after a moment.

"You didn't check the right one, then," Donna said sharply, her jaws tight with anger.

"What should I have checked?" Web asked, voice gentler than Rebecca had ever heard it. She doubted that either of them remembered she was even in the room anymore. She was oddly grateful for that, since this exchange was too personal and too painful to bear. She didn't belong there, yet its outcome was important. "Tell me, Donna. You couldn't then, but you can tell me now. I'll listen."

"You should've listened _then!_ I told you I didn't feel well. I _told_ you."

"You said you weren't sleeping well," Web murmured, remembering. "You said you would be fine in a day or two. And that was it."

"That _wasn't_ it!" Chest heaving, she pulled off her turtleneck and unhooked her bra. Her chest was flat, criss-crossed with a tangle of angry, red scars.

Rebecca's hand flew to her mouth. "Donna..."

"Stage four," Donna hissed. "Surgery and chemo did _nothing._ I have _months_ left, and I've wasted too much of that time already."

"I didn't know," Web murmured softly. "I'm sorry."

"It was too late already," Donna said, the venom seeping from her voice. "You couldn't have done anything. Not even you could have saved me."

"But in two years..."

"I'm done. I've already outlasted their expectations."

"I'm sorry, Donna."

Donna turned away and crossed her arms over her flat chest. "So am I."

***  
***


	3. Back To The Beginning

Between the sketches and descriptions Danny had gotten from Anne Baily, Rebecca was able to flesh out her profile of the UNSUB. All she had to go on previously was the victim profile, which had allowed her to make a few guesses. Those had proven to be accurate, and Mel had started to go over the histories of all their major suspects. Paul had disappeared to Karen's side, so it was left to Danny and Rebecca to comb over the actual crime scene. Even though it had taken place two weeks ago, they were hoping that there would be leftover evidence from the murder. Danny was painfully silent on the ride over, despite Rebecca's efforts to draw him out in conversation. She even told him about the visit she had with Donna when she went with Paul, and he didn't crack a smile.

"Something's wrong," Rebecca said, voice gentle. "What happened?"

"You know, if we never released that last victim's photo to the press, she never would have come forward?" Danny replied after a moment. He seemed thoughtful, and didn't take his eyes off of the road as he drove. Rebecca didn't make any comment about how fast they were going, and didn't comment about how evasive he was being.

"It's why we did that. We were hoping there was a witness."

"I know." There was a pent-up frustration lacing his voice, something that was bothering him. He wanted to tell her, Rebecca realized. He just didn't know how.

"What was she like?"

Now Danny took his eyes off the road. "What?"

"The witness. Tell me about her. I wasn't there."

_She's crazy,_ Danny almost said, the words at the tip of his tongue. Except that she wasn't, really, and he didn't know how to explain it. Her conversation had been all over the place, but he had been able to follow it easily enough. Her life just plain _sucked,_ but he had been able to understand it. He just didn't know what to make of it.

"She's sad," he said finally. "She hears voices sometimes, and her mother's got problems of her own. Mel said..." Danny stopped for a moment, trying to figure out how to express the horror he had felt when Mel had relayed her interview with Juliet. "She nearly drowned her own daughter right after birth." Danny looked over at Rebecca's face. For a moment, he almost saw Anne's face superimposed over it. He blinked, and it was gone. He turned back toward the road. "She was afraid that the screams of the witness were more voices. So if we hadn't shown that photo, she would have gone on believing she was insane."

"I'm sorry," Rebecca whispered.

"For what?" Danny asked, frustration lacing his voice again. "You weren't there."

"That's why I'm sorry. I should've been."

"I got the lead," Danny replied, beginning to slow. "We're almost there."

Rebecca shook her head. "Not for that. But because I might've been able to help talk with her."

He looked at her curiously as he braked. "How?"

"Because I know what that feels like," Rebecca said, voice barely above a whisper. "She would've known it. We can see it someone else."

"You make it sound like a visible scar."

"Sometimes it is."

Danny only watched as Rebecca's eyes took in the site. He shoved his hands into his pockets and wished he knew what to say, but he felt rattled inside of his own skin. He wasn't sure what else he could have done differently, and wasn't sure if he had done the right thing. Their conversation afterward still haunted him to some degree.

Rebecca stepped forward carefully, eyes sharp and on full alert. Her profile no longer seemed to remind him of Anne, but there was something delicate and fragile about her. It almost seemed as though she was too unseasoned to be here, combing through a crime scene. Yet already she had come up with ideas that no one else seemed to see. She presented them quietly, not seeming too aggressive unless it was necessary. Web had been on to something with her, and it certainly wasn't obvious to the rest of the team yet.

_She's not like them,_ Danny thought suddenly. _Not really._ Rebecca's predecessors had been absolutely fearless on the job and utterly untouchable in their personal lives. They had dove right in with reckless abandon, minds melding with the clues available to profile their UNSUB. They hadn't felt any need to separate themselves from the job or have any kind of caution. Rebecca seemed more controlled, more particular and careful. Danny wondered what it was that drew her to the Violent Crimes Unit, but knew better than to ask. Everyone deserved the privacy of their own secrets.

At Rebecca's insistence, they returned to the Bailey house. Threads of sense were beginning to tickle the back of her mind, and she wanted to hear Anne's memories for herself. She wanted to meet Anne and see what she was like and how she responded to stressors. Rebecca needed to hear how her memories unfolded. Sometimes that was as important as the memory itself. She had Danny's interpretation of it, but she of all people knew how tricky memories could be. Emotion colored everything, and right now she was easily the most dispassionate participant involved in the case.

Rosa let them upstairs without getting Juliet's permission first. Danny knocked on the door to Anne's room and opened it. The room was even messier than it had been that morning, and there were angry, jagged gouges in the wall next to the desk. Anne was sitting in the corner of the room, headphones on, her arms around her knees. Handwritten sheet music was scattered around her, some of the pages ripped in half.

"Anne?" Danny asked. He stopped short, unsure what to do next. He felt as if he was seventeen again, next to some pretty girl in high school. _God, I never should have kissed her!_

Rebecca quietly stepped around him when it looked as though he was at a loss. She hunkered down next to Anne, and watched as she deliberately covered her face. "My name is Rebecca. Can I call you Anne?"

"I guess," Anne mumbled.

"Is it okay if I sit down here?" She waited until Anne nodded and then sat down on the floor next to her. Rebecca picked up the torn pieces of sheet music and tried to piece them back together. "I can't read this. What would it have sounded like?"

"Dunno anymore," Anne whispered. She looked up abruptly, her eyes locking to Danny's. They were red-rimmed from crying, and then she looked back at Rebecca. "I can't hear it anymore. All I can hear is screaming."

Danny winced; Rebecca could see it out of the corner of her eye.

"Tell me what it sounds like," Rebecca asked, her voice hushed.

"She's _screaming!"_ Anne shrieked.

"Is it in pain?" Rebecca continued, as if the shriek hadn't nearly deafened her. "Is it happy? I don't know what you hear."

"He said I could do it," Anne whined, eyes shifting back to Danny. "He said I could leave if I wanted, I could go to the house my grandmother left me. I can't! He said I could do it, but I can't, I can't." Her eyes welled up with tears, and she looked at Rebecca pleadingly. "No one would believe me. I'd kill your case if I had to testify."

"What do you mean?" Rebecca asked, voice gentle. Danny was amazed how well she was handling the riot of emotions emanating from Anne.

Anne sniffled. "I'm your witness, and I hear voices. I still hear them. I lied to my doctors, I still hear them. The last thing you need is me on the stand pointing at that skinny, weaselly little man and saying he's the one I saw. Because then the lawyer comes, and he pulls out my charts. He'll smile and point to the mental status exams, the notes full of hallucinations. He'll rip any credibility to shreds." Her eyes welled up with tears. "I can't do it, I can't. Nobody will believe me. They'll get my doctors up there to say I'm fine, they'll get others to say I'm not. Nobody believes the crazy girl. My own mother thinks I'm crazy, and she doesn't believe anything I say. She thinks I'm evil. She thinks I killed my family. Hell, half the time I want to believe her."

"Anne," Rebecca began gently. "I would never ask that of you."

"You might," Anne replied sulkily.

"No. Just tell me now. How does she sound to you? What did she look like? Tell me so I can see her, too."

Danny watched as Rebecca listened, her head cocked slightly to the side. The two of them looked like high school seniors gossiping about boys at a slumber party. He had to look away; he knew he lost his objectivity by the side of the freeway. He had just been able to hide it from Mel since her talk with Juliet had rattled her. Normally, she would have been able to see right through him and know that something was wrong.

He had no idea why he did it, or how he could undo it. He saw Anne's pained expression and wished he could.

"Now what? I've brought you back to the beginning. Now you know," Anne said with a hoarse whisper. "Now what?"

"Now I do my job," Rebecca said, her head straightening.

"How?" Anne asked tremulously. Her fingers twisted the earphone wires, and her eyes searched Rebecca's face anxiously.

She shook her head firmly. "It's all right. It won't have to touch on you at all. Your name won't be involved, so no one will ask you to testify."

"He got away," Anne whispered. "It's all my fault."

Rebecca shook her head. "No, it's not. You've helped me a lot by talking with me. Thank you."

Anne looked at her in wonder. "I did?"

"You did." Rebecca flashed her a small smile. "Really. That helped a lot."

Anne sniffled. "I was afraid I wouldn't, that I waited too long."

"No, you didn't." Rebecca's smile was easy, but somehow Danny knew it was fake and for Anne's benefit. "We've got a lot more to work with now."

Anne rubbed at her eyes like a child, and Rebecca could feel Danny shift uneasily behind her. She helped Anne to her feet and looked around the room. "Were you that upset?" Anne nodded, looking guilty. "You don't have to be. It's okay to be afraid."

"I didn't know what to do. I'm scared," Anne whispered. Her eyes flicked to Danny's face. He hoped he was containing his horror well. "I've never been on my own before."

"You don't have to make any decisions right away," Rebecca said, her voice carefully neutral. "No one's asking you to."

"I... other than driving... I don't go out. I don't know anybody but my doctors and therapists, and they don't care past my appointments."

Rebecca shook her head. "No. If you feel their concern in the session, you know it's real. It's there. That's real."

Anne's lips trembled. "I'm afraid, though. What will my mother say? What will I _do?"_

"Live," Rebecca said simply, shrugging. "It's all you can do sometimes. Sometimes you just take what's given and hold on. And it becomes part of you, and you use it to move on." She was intently aware of Danny's eyes on her back, of the questions that must be rolling through his mind if Paul hadn't given everything away. "So you have to get stronger."

"But _how?"_

"It's different for everybody. But for you? I'd say you have to trust in your doctors. You'll have to tell them what you told me. Not the detail about the screaming, but about why you were afraid to tell us. You have to let them help you. They want to, right?" She waited for Anne's nod. "You have to grow up, Anne. You can't let your mother keep you a child in the dark forever."

"I don't know how."

"I know. And I don't know how to show you. You'll have to take those steps on your own, without us here."

Anne's eyes were wide with fear. "But..."

"You have resources a lot of people don't," Rebecca continued. "Even if you fall, someone will be there to catch you. But you have to take that first step."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because we all do it."

_Because if we don't, we become that girl you saw getting gutted,_ Rebecca thought. She looked at Danny and met his eyes. _But sometimes, there really is someone out there ready to catch you._

***

"How did you know what to say?" Danny asked Rebecca. He had invited her to a bar near the office building, not really expecting her to accept. Surprisingly, she did.

"About what?" she asked, sipping her drink. She had ordered something fruity and girly, not quite what he would have expected.

"Today, at the Bailey house. How did you know how to talk to her like that?"

She shrugged. "Instinct."

"That looked practiced."

"Why didn't you know what to say?" she countered, looking him in the eyes. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Danny said. His voice was too quick, and he sipped his drink almost guiltily.

"Something did. Otherwise you would've asked everyone else out, too."

He looked up at her sharply. "What?"

"The three of you worked together for a long time. But there's still so much that you don't know about each other." Rebecca sipped her drink thoughtfully. "Let me ask you, how well did you know Donna Madison while you were working together?"

He looked confused by the abrupt shift in topic, but allowed it. "I don't know. Not very well, I guess. I could predict how she would act, but that's about it. She didn't want it any other way, really. She didn't want any of us knowing much."

"And you don't like that. You like knowing people and where you stand with them." She met his eyes easily, and there was no judgment in them. "It's okay if you do. Most people are like that. It's just that most people like that don't seem so friendly at first."

"So you think you have me pegged?" Danny asked, intrigued. He didn't know if he should be amazed or insulted. She smiled, a real smile that brightened her face. He eased somewhat, seeing it. "What?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"You're protective of them. I didn't know that at first." Her smile was self-deprecating. "You look so angry sometimes, it's hard to tell."

His brows tightened. "I don't look angry."

She laughed, and Danny had to admit, he didn't feel insulted by it at all. "Sure you do. But now I know it's not at me. You know, I actually thought you were angry with me before?"

"I think you're drunk."

"Not yet. Tipsy, though," she corrected with a smile.

"Yeah? I wonder what it takes to get you drunk."

"A lot more of these," she said, shaking her empty glass. Her smile slid from her face after a moment. "I saw Donna today. That's why I brought her up."

"You did? But you never knew her before."

"Paul took me when you and Mel left. And then Web insisted on seeing her, too."

Danny goggled at the thought. "Uh oh. That must've been bad."

Her brows furrowed in thought, and Danny thought for a moment about what it might be like to really get to know her. He doubted she was very comfortable with many people. Before today, he would have thought her an ice queen incapable of any kind of kindness. Now he had a different impression of her, and it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"She was in pain. I don't know if I should say why, since her reasons are her own. But she blamed a lot of her problems on how the team ran, how Web treated everyone. Or rather," she added as an afterthought, "how she _thought_ he treated everyone." She looked up at Danny. "He was hurt by her today. I don't think he knew how badly she had felt about him. He never knew why she left."

"Huh." Danny sat back in his seat, contemplating that. "We always figured he knew. He was always so tightlipped and always knew what everyone was about... Why wouldn't he know?" he asked, curious.

"She never told him, and he didn't have any clues otherwise."

He shook his head. "I never thought there would be a day he wouldn't know everything about us."

Rebecca felt a chill run down her spine. "Yeah. I guess."

Danny looked over at her, at the glum expression on her face. "Hey now, you can't possibly have something that bad buried in your past." He expected her to deny it, but she didn't. "So what does he have on you?"

"Nothing," Rebecca said firmly, signaling for the waitress to come back.

"Hey now, don't leave angry."

"I'm not angry," Rebecca said, turning to look at Danny. She forced a smile. "I'm ordering another drink. How about you?"

He returned her smile, though his was genuine. "Sure."

_This is how real people deal with stress,_ she thought, placing her order. _This is how the rest of the world functions. This is how real life is._

"Hey," Danny began, his voice unsure. Rebecca looked up from her drink. "Is it turning out the way you expected here?"

She thought of her empty apartment, the drawn blinds and the empty shelves. She thought of the girls from her first case, how they had tried to live new lives and failed. She thought of the successful women caught up in their own needs. She thought of the mind games and the fears trapped within them, the endless expanse of hopelessness caught within the tangles. She thought of the flashes of fear she still had on occasion. She didn't think they would ever truly be gone, and was starting to wonder if she could live with that.

"I don't know yet. It's too soon to tell." She smiled at Danny. "It's a lot warmer, though."

He laughed. "I would think so. But it's nicer here, I think. Less political on our team. We don't have to jockey around and try to explain our caseload to justify our wages."

"Did you have to do that before?"

"Sometimes," he said with a shrug. "It went with the old territory. I like it here better."

Rebecca sipped her drink. "So far I like it," she said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Danny smiled, and Rebecca could feel the alcohol rising to her cheeks. "I'm glad."

"I think it won't be so bad."

He grinned and knocked back the rest of drink. "Well, not everyone thinks it's Hell-A here. I don't, anyway. I think we've got a good team here."

Rebecca tried not to think of Alvarez or Donna, and failed. "What about the others before me? Did it work out well with them?"

Danny thought for a moment, giving the question more consideration than Rebecca thought that he would. "For work it did, I guess. But they never accepted an offer to hang out after work and get drinks."

"I wonder why," Rebecca replied, a wry smile on her face.

He laughed. "It's not like I asked them to play strip poker or anything. They never did seem the type, anyway."

Rebecca found herself snorting her laughter, which surprised Danny. He laughed along with her, and they got another drink. _I could do this,_ she thought to herself, amazed. _I could really do this._

She let him walk her to her car. "Thanks. I had a nice time."

"I guess you don't unwind too often?"

She shrugged. "It depends. I just got here, so there's catching up to do."

"Not too much, I hope. All work and no play makes Rebecca a very dull girl."

"Oh, I've been a very dull girl, then." She smiled at him sweetly as she got into her car. "But maybe a few more invites will do the trick."

"Next time we all go out together, I'll make sure you come along."

"Good night, Danny."

He grinned and nodded at her. "Good night. I'll see you in the morning."

"Sure thing. We've got a killer to catch."

Driving away, Rebecca had the feeling that perhaps she really had found her place within the Bureau. Suddenly the ground beneath her feet didn't seem so shaky.

She found herself driving to Donna's house. When she and Web had left that day, something about it had felt unfinished. Web had been exceedingly reticent on the drive back to the office, and Rebecca had been reluctant to draw him out of it. She hadn't really known what to make of Donna or her story. _She wanted an audience. She wanted me to wonder about her. There's no one else here for her, and she picked_ me. _Why?_

Rebecca found herself thinking of Anne's tear-streaked face, the disquiet present in the girl before she had dissolved into tears. Donna, for all of her pain, had been incapable of crying. She hadn't been able to talk in straight lines, just as Anne hadn't, but for different reasons.

_I wasn't listening enough. I didn't hear what she was trying to say,_ Rebecca thought, turning onto the street leading to Donna's complex. "There's something I'm missing," she said aloud, looking at herself in the rearview mirror. Her eyes stared back at her, looking almost like mirrors themselves.

She rang the doorbell to Donna's apartment and wasn't surprised when the other woman opened it right away. "Hello."

"Something left undone?" Donna asked, voice arch. She didn't sound quite so bitter anymore.

"I wanted to ask you that," Rebecca replied. "Busy?"

"Watching the time fly," Donna answered. She let Rebecca in, and then sat on the couch. Rebecca remained standing just inside the doorway. "What?"

"What about a tour?"

"You don't need to see that."

"I think I do."

Lips pursed, Donna got up. Her tour was abrupt and perfunctory. The other rooms were just as stark and devoid of personal touches that made it a home. "See anything?"

"No. But that's the point, isn't it?" Rebecca tilted her head to the side. "There was nothing for you here. All you did was work."

Donna crossed her arms under her padded breasts. "I was good at it."

"But then why come back? You were gone for two years. Why come back now?"

Donna moved into the kitchen, and Rebecca followed her. "Have you ever known someone with cancer?" she asked, voice hushed. Rebecca shook her head. "I didn't either. No family history... well, that's not quite right. No family. No one to get history from. So maybe there is, maybe there isn't. I don't know. But I never bothered to check on myself anyway. I was always too busy." She grabbed two glasses and filled them with ice. She opened up her freezer, and there was nothing but alcohol in it. "Got a favorite?"

"Not really," Rebecca replied. She watched silently as Donna poured liberal amounts of vodka into each glass.

"Watch out for them," Donna advised, beginning to drink from her glass. "There's nothing here. It's an empty city, nothing but artifice. They're like that, too. They're all empty, full of hollow spaces." Donna's own eyes seemed hollow. "That's why I came back. I didn't know how to live with real people. It took too much out of me. There's nothing here. There was never anything here, and I just got tired of pretending that there was."

"Why me? Why did you need me to know this?"

"Because you need to know what you're dealing with." Donna shrugged and took a large gulp of the vodka. "I almost wish that someone had talked to me beforehand, warned me how it went in there. I could've used a mentor."

"And you want to be my mentor?"

"If you want it." Donna finished off her glass and watched Rebecca sip at hers. "You need to throw yourself into it. That's why Virgil picks us. We're empty inside, and the case fills us up and becomes us. You need to become them to understand them, and you need to understand them to catch the clues. You can't be delicate and sit back and wait. You need to be stronger and you need to take it all on."

"What brings you back?" Rebecca asked softly.

Donna looked at Rebecca, eyes like mirrors. "Because I'm good at it. Because it's what I do, and it's the only thing I have. There's nothing between me and those monsters, nothing between me and the end of the case. And I'm _needed._ They needed me, and I helped find the monsters. I had a role."

"And now?"

"When I was somebody, I lived here. And now that I'm nobody... You can't help but want to be somebody again."

"I don't think you were ever a nobody."

Donna smiled almost bitterly. "You're so green," she said, snatching the glass from Rebecca. She drained its contents. "You definitely need my help."

"Then tell me," Rebecca replied, crossing her arms under her breasts and leaning against the counter. "Tell me everything."

 

The End.


End file.
